


Burning Cold

by spirkybubbles



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, M/M, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 02:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16567493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirkybubbles/pseuds/spirkybubbles
Summary: Random word vomit of The Bois.Lanreth Ereoros is my sylvan bard.Red Seabury belongs to a close friend.Don't read if you're sensitive to near-death situations and peril.





	Burning Cold

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a random idea that popped into my head that i felt like writing out.

Lanreth's fingertips and toes are numb with an icy chill that seems to crawl and claw it's way up his limbs, and into his torso, sinking in jagged fangs and holding tight to his flesh, unrelenting.  
Yet the pain is distant, quiet and calm, and he feels no panic - no hurry to rise from wherever he's laying. Lanreth drifts, on the cusp between wakefulness and a deep, peaceful darkness, and all is quiet and numb. Stinging and cold yet somehow comfortable, like a flame of ice flickering within his bones.

A voice, distant and quiet, and a far too warm hand presses in against his throat, and he realizes that someone is checking his pulse. Now why would they be doing that?-- oh, oh now he remembers. Vaguely, but he remembers. A difficult fight, something unidentified and hard and cold slamming into him, forcing the air from his lungs with the shock of it. That must be why he's on the ground, and also why someone is checking his pulse. 

He can't remember the names or faces of his companions at the moment - everything is so fuzzy and sleepy, and just wants to keep his eyes closed but the distant cries of this person are making it difficult to nap. 

Suddenly, a jolt of heat nearly sends him flying out of his skin - and brings him back to the present, and to his body which is wracked with grueling pain and unnaturally stiff and cold.  
One of those hands from before cups his cheek and another finds the small of his back, pulling him close into an almost tender embrace, seeping warmth back into his sore flesh. He can't help but shiver, his teeth chattering despite the sudden, almost painful return of warmth. 

A voice, quiet and soothing and like dark husky velvet murmurs continuously close to his ear, a steady mantra of reassurance lingering in the background, a familiar voice most definitely - yet without a name at the moment. "I've got ya, darlin'. Stay with me. I've got ya, Lan. Stay with me. Yer alright, sweetness. I've got ya." It croons, and he feels his ears twitch in reply. Whoever this voice belongs to gives a trembling sigh of relief at the miniscule motion.

A forehead presses to his and he inhales shakily, lungs burning and nose stinging, and finally recognizes the owner of the warm hands, who smells of spice and sea breeze - his mate. Some of the tension not caused by his nearly-frozen limbs melts from his body and he shudders, pointed ears flicking as he curls close and whimpers faintly, fingers curling tight into supple, worn leather and coarse fabric.  
He opens his eyes, and instantly regrets it, grimacing. Everything is too bright, too loud, too much, and not even the black fabric Red lays over his eyes once he notices the discomfort seems to soothe the headache that seemingly threatens to split his skull open. 

He buries his face in the crook of Red's neck, whining lowly, and lets himself be carried. There's no joy in it this time, however, and his love's hands grip him tight with worry. He wonders if Red is really afraid for him, but doesn't ask, his own throat tight with slowly building terror. He just clings, and tries to breathe, and doesn't entirely notice when they arrive back at camp. 

Sitting by the fire later, he holds Red's hand, tightly lacing their fingers together and uncaring of what eyes may see them. It's a silent reassurance of "I'm still here."  
He hopes Red gets the message, because his throat is still too tight and he's sure his voice would tremble and crack something awful were he to try and speak.  
He squeezes his love's hand gently, and Red squeezes back.


End file.
